


Pets are for Life (and Vice Versa)

by MountainRose



Series: Tumblr Prompts [17]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon Fusion, Animal Rescue, Animal Transformation, M/M, Tony is a Dragon, Tony keeps pet dragons, dragons au, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony keeps an eyrie of pet dragons, he's used to their crazy antics. He never expected to join in, but when he does, he doesn't regret it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pets are for Life (and Vice Versa)

**Author's Note:**

> pagen-godess asked: Based on the dragon post. How about something where Tony has a tiny horde of little pet dragons. His friends are used to them. The other avengers are not.
> 
> WELL HOW COULD I NOT. :D I really enjoyed writing these, so thank you for the prompts!

Tony met Gem not long after bringing Jessie and Nibbles back from the desert.

Hurting from his first encounter with rain, and atmospheric pressure changes, Tony was maybe a bit too well medicated to be wandering around New York, but he had Plans for something amazing, and he wanted to get the lay of the land. There was an underutilised block here _somewhere,_ he’d seen it on the map about five minutes ago _._

Gem _happened_ to him, out from under a dumpster. Scrawny, covered in bits of pastry and hissing fit to boil a kettle, she went for his shoes and he fell in love as soon as he was out of spitting range, pants only slightly singed. Under all the grime, she was a brilliant green miniature Welsh, with red eyespots on her wings and six horns that gave her a perpetual scowl. An abandoned pet, probably, used to sugary treats and completely missing the half-eaten battered fish nearby that would have provided a much better meal. 

Tony crouched down and dug his keys out of his pocket. Her head snapped to the sound and she tucked her paws and legs in, wings snapped to her sides and tail curled over her feet. He jingled the keys again and she darted forwards half a foot before folding herself back into position.

“Someone went to all their dragon academy sessions, didn’t you, good girl?”

She chirrped back at him, irises contracting and relaxing to flash their gold at him. 

“Yeah? You like them? Come and play; they’re steel, one hundred percent dragon proof.” He jingled the keys again, holding them out in her general direction. “Third time’s the charm, hey, babe.”

She darted the rest of the way and nabbed the keys, playing a very polite game of tug-of-war. He pulled towards himself a few times, let her pull back a few times, yeah, she’d played this game before.

But, she was skinny, and her scales pretty dull. He didn’t want to wear her out, not when she had a vet’s appointment and a new home to work out, and Jessie and Nibbles to meet.

“Pepper is going to murder us, she is.”

The dragon made an inquisitive chirp, dropping the keys in favor of rubbing her snout over his fingers, combining sniffing with marking. He let her do the same to his other hand and then, there, she let him pick her up. 

Tucked against his chest, she warmed the reactor and it stopped aching; if that wasn’t a sign that he needed to keep her, he didn’t know what was.

“Let’s just make sure you don’t have a momma looking for you, and you can come home with me, hey, babe?”

She bit him firmly on the ear, without drawing blood, and he took that to mean he was her’s now.

\---

“Honey, no, get out of there...” Tony hefted the little red by her belly, pulling her out of the jam jar and scrambling to get his other hand around her shoulders before she eeled right back in there. 

“Steve, get the lid on that, please? I have to go put Jessie in the fire.” He made a kissy face at the dragon, and she craned her head up to lick his face. He stayed just out of reach with an indulgent grin. 

“Uh, sure. Sorry for leaving it out, I had no idea,” Steve replied, already putting the lid on his jelly. “I hope it doesn’t make her sick.” 

Tony held Jessie away from his body when she wriggled around to start cleaning her jaw against his clothes. “No, no, she’ll be fine. She’ll have more fire than is good for me for a while, but she’ll have a great time.” 

He headed towards the fire pit in the living room, Steve trailing after him with his plate of toast. “J, turn the gas on, please.” 

The fire belched to life, flames billowing out from between the ceramic gravel and Jessie peeped and squeaked to be let go. Tony tossed her up in the air and she b-lined for the flames, little wings slicing the air for extra speed. She still found the time for an elaborate loop in the thermal current, then dove ignobly into the gravel. The jelly caught fire immediately, and she rubbed the sticky flames off on the pebbles, giving off a thick smell of caramelizing sugar.

Tony picked up a mineral wool brush and held it in the gas jet until it was white hot, before offering it to her for scritches. She squirmed onto her back and he rubbed the last of the jelly off her jaw with it. 

“Watch her for a second for me? She’ll be too hot for the couch for at least five minutes.” 

“How do I keep her off it? She’s too hot to touch,” Steve mumbled through his mouthful; the glamour hadn’t even lasted through breakfast. 

“Oh, she knows she’s not allowed, just do the eyebrows, she’ll be fine.” 

“But where are you going?” He grumbled, licking crumbs off his thumb; the man was a legitimate _menace_. 

“Steve, where are the other dragonettes?” 

Steve blinked adorably, looking around the almost fire-proof living room and looking sheepish. “Not...here?” 

“Exactly, fire’s on and no one else has come looking. I guarantee that they’re up to their tails in something. I won’t be long!” He promised. “There’s one sure-fire way of getting them together, even if they’ve raided someone’s jewelry box. Be right back.” 

He pushed himself to his feet and turned the fire back off, much good it would do. The dragonettes could smell soot on you from a hundred yards. Back in the kitchen, he rattled the cupboards loudly and clanged the lid of the treat tin against the marble countertop. “Oh dear, I seem to have spilled dragon treats everywhere,” he drawled ironically, rummaging in the tin for five matching bismuth candies. “Who ever will help me tidy up?”

“Piping audio to all available dragons now, sir.” 

“Thanks, J, you’re a star. We got someone missing?” 

“Nibbles has insinuated himself into Agent Romanovs room. Apparently, he is welcome.” 

Tony smiled and it was only a little bit evil; she was gonna regret that. “Alright, ring her phone for me, please.”

The dial tone sounded, just for effect, and Nat picked up on the second ring.

“Romanov.”

“Just me upstairs, Nat. I’m doing the morning headcount, could you send Nibbles up?” 

She didn’t immediately answer and there was a suspicious rustling in the background, then the sound of claws on marble. “...sure. Apparently I’m coming up for breakfast anyway. They can eat gluten, right?” 

Tony rolled his eyes to the sky helplessly. “Yes, they can eat gluten. Really, guys, they can eat anything humans can. Plus the plastic it came in, and the aluminum foil.”

“Fair enough. Do you _want_ them eating human food, then? Or should I put a guard up over my breakfast?” A despairing whine from Nibbles, the one he made when he did an impression of a understuffed toy and dangled from your hand despondently.

“They have their own food, which they would have _had_ , Nibbles, I am talking to you, if they weren’t so excited about all the new play-mates moving in.” 

Natasha snorted and juggled the phone somehow, making a clattery rustling noise. “I’ll be right there. You owe me breakfast.”

“Gottcha. I’ll put more toast in.” 

Jarvis clicked to tell him he’d hung up, and turned the toaster on. Tony put the tin of treats away, putting the candies in his pocket. While he was slicing the bread, the first inquisitive peep sounded at the doorway. He glanced over and Gem took that as an invitation to climb his leg and stick her snout in his pocket. He fended her off and boosted her to his shoulder, swiping a bright green tail off his face while she crawled around to his other shoulder out of sheer contraryness. 

“Trrr-eeeps!” she peeped into his ear. 

“Wait, flock,” he chided, putting two slices on the conveyor, then shrugging and adding a third and fourth. 

“Fooo-ck,” Gem repeated, unfortunately, though she did settle in to wait. 

Benny flapped in next, actually flying and flashing his bright pink eyespots right until he crash landed on Tony’s back, claws hooking onto the fabric and letting him cling relatively painlessly. “Hey Benny, we’re waiting for flock, okay?”

“Krrrrkkkrkrrrrrr--ts,” Benny replied, belling out his throat pouch and clattering his spark. The bright flashes in the corner of his eye were very distracting, so Tony gave himself a good shake. Both dragons peeeped in delight and took off, turning loops overhead. Jessie screeched in from the living room to join in, making a rattling sound as she geared up her spark for an enthusiastic gout of flame. 

That set the other two off, six inch puffs of fire whirling briefly in the eddies off their wingtips before burning out harmlessly. They were good kids, very careful with their flames. Tony held a slice of bread up with the metal tongs and it got obligingly scorched by Jessie. True to his prediction, she was all full up of gas from the sugar. 

“Hey, that for me?” Natasha asked. He turned with a grin, waving the carbonised slice until it stoped actively burning. “Or not,” she added, eyeing the smoke and dropping Nibbles. He fell from her hand like an empty leather glove right up until he snapped his wings open and shot for the rest of the flock. She was still in her sleep wear, with a really soft, baggy sweater on over the top. 

“It’s part of their breakfast. ‘s important for their sense of flock that they eat _some_ of the same food as we do. Ideally properly burnt, so they don't have to flame off as often. You sleep okay? Sorry if Nibbles got you up.” 

Nat got a plate from the table and brought it over, sashaying like she’s actually relaxed. “Just fine. It’s a nice apartment. Good ambiance. I’ll have one of those, then, please.” She held the plate out in the direction of the rotary toaster. Tony slid a slice over with the tongs. 

“Glad you like it. Just one? You don’t have to hide your ridiculous metabolism here; you live with dragons now.” 

She looked at him like he was very, very strange, but eh, he’d had that a lot. He was over it. 

“That’s... surprisingly sweet. Thank you.” She bumped shoulders with him, and Benny landed on Tony’s just in time to hop across the gap between them and get all up in Natasha’s hair. “Load me up, Mr. Stark.” 

He grinned and scooped up the other three. There was coffee and a smoothie waiting for him, so he just had the dragons left to feed. 

“J, where’s Ciel?” he asked, getting their bowls out and lining them up on the fireproof perches. Benny abandoned his investigation of Natasha and flew to his perch, nosing at the bowl in case that made food appear sooner.

“On her way, though momentarily distracted by Agent Barton’s laser sight.” 

Tony wrinkled his nose. “People still use those?”

“Primarily for dramatic effect. Clint’s a very dramatic kind of guy.” 

“No, really?” Tony asked, giving her the side eye. “He looks so _serious_. Please tell him to say ‘breakfast’ at her, in his best enthusiastic voice.” 

“It’s just his resting face, I swear,” she grinned getting a knife out of the pot on the table and opening the honey. She immediately had Jessie’s full attention, though Nibbles and Gem joined Benny on the perch, bobbing their heads and rattling their sparks. 

“Yeah, yeah. Calm down, babes. It’s coming.” He pulled the bag of dragon food out of the special drawer of the fridge and rattled it pointedly. Jessie zeroed in on the sound, her ruff sticking straight up as she nipped to her perch, sitting pretty like she’d been there all along.

Ciel wasn’t far behind, banking through the door with a rattle of wings more like a whole flock than a single dragon. She was clumsy, but had the smarts to make up for it and never broke things. Unlike other dragons he could mention, he thought, eyeing Nibbles, pointedly. The blue snapped his wings closed, away from his sister, and licked his eyeball innocently. 

“Hah. You are not fooling anyone, you greedy little sod. Flock!” 

“Fkkkkckkk!” Benny chirped, head bobbing, then turning almost upside down on his long neck. They all got into proper perch positions, belling out their throats and tucking their wings in orderly, though they never could quite get their heads under control. Benny flipped from almost upside down leftwards, to almost upside down rightwards, Nibbles was watching the food bag, head swaying to follow it intently. Jessie and Ciel were licking at each others' heads, necks twisted into loops, and Gem had set hers into a sharp S-bend, chin on her throat bell. 

“You’ll do,” Tony muttered, opening up the food bag and shaking out a fat carp into each bowl.

“I thought dragons swallowed their food whole?” Clint asked from somewhere over by the table. When Tony looked, it was obvious he’d been in the eyrie, practicing presumably. He had chalk dust on his pants, and his boots weren’t unlaced; he’d been climbing. First day here, and he was already training. Tony shook his head and turned back to his babies, slapping the last fish into Gem’s bowl.

“They do.”

“But those are huge, how--” 

“Yeah, just watch. It’s seriously not a problem.” Tony closed the bag, eyeing all five of them quivering in anticipation. “Alright, breakfast!”

They descended on the food, jaws chomping over the fish’s head and lifting it implausibly over their heads. One by one, they opened their throats and flamed up, around their teeth, sparks clattering to get an even flame, and swallowed the scorched fish whole. 

“Huh, would you look at that, it’s like pizza night.” 

Tony looked over in askance, hiding the bag of fish back in the fridge before anyone got any bright ideas. Clint was just in the process of elbowing Natasha in the ribs. 

“I do _not_.”

“Yeah you do, you heathen,” she retorted, jabbing a thumb into his brachial plexus. His right knee buckled and he grimaced dramatically, whining. 

Tony laughed incredulously; he’d moved in with _crazy people_. With all his dragons looking fat and slightly cross eyed, he broke the charcoaled piece of toast up into five, put a bismuth candy on each piece, and fed them carefully to his flock. 

“Ciel first. Be Good!” he warned. Ciel took the candy very carefully, teeth retracted into her jaw. “Good _girl_. Nibbles, nod!” 

Nibbles nodded his head all the way down to the dowel perch, then cocked it back up. “Yes, you _have_ been a good boy, there you go.” Behind him, someone snorted then groaned after a swift smack sound.

“Benny, sing!” Benny warbled a shaky tune, just an up and down, and got his treat.

“Jessie, good _girl_ , flame.” He made the hand gesture for fire, flicking it upwards, and she gouted some of her excess up into the air. One of the reasons he had high ceilings. 

Gem was being _so patient_ , holding onto the perch with all six limbs and squirming, head stretched out for her treat, but being so good and not taking off. “Okay, Gem, good girl, best girl, Be Good!” She retracted her teeth and he fed her the charcoal and bismuth candy, letting her lick the crumbs off his thumb.

“You’re crazy, man. I mean, they’re amazing, but you’re crazy,” Clint told him earnestly.

Laughing, Tony gave the dragons the ‘OK, go’ command and they all shot off towards the living room. “Sure I am. I’m Tony Stark. I gotta be crazy to suit up with you nutcases.”

\---

The armor went down two hundred yards from the overturned bus Clint was using as a vantage and Steve went all reckless on the guy wielding the gun. Nat shot down the two on his six and eight, kept his skin whole, but Steve pissed was something else. 

Clint dropped off the bus, switching his quiver to cluster style close-range arrowheads, and went to get Tony out of the thick of it. The armor had handholds these days, if you had your Avengers card in RFID range they popped out, so Clint dragged the suit, sparking on the asphalt, out of the range of the other guy’s dragon fire. Clint was so not impressed by using dragons as attack ponies, not since moving in and getting to know Tony’s flock of pet dragons.

He’d had to shoot them. No choice about it, but boy, was he pissed. 

Grunting, he got the suit behind a car and crouched over Tony’s legs to peer over the hood. There was a guy riding a stoker class coming after them and they’d melt the car to slag, no problem. Clint ducked back down with a grimace, telling Tony’s unmoving shell that he really needed dragon-safe tranq’s before rearing back up and firing off a taser net at the dragon’s feet. It went down with a god awful screech and a hopefully non-fatal crash.

“Hey, hey, Tony,” he whined, clanking on the armor with the pulley of his bow. “You awake? Please say it was a Skrill? EMP’s suck, I know, but I know you shock-proofed this thing-- _WHOA!”_

The chest of the armor burst outwards in a bright purple explosion, the reactor flying off and bouncing on the concrete, trailing white smoke and going dark. 

“TONY! _Medic! I need--_ I don’t-- what the _fuck?!_ ” 

A black, sinuous head and neck poked out of the hole, big brown eyes blinking and sonar flaps-- Holy hell, a _strike class dragon_. Shitshit-- He clicked his com on and yelled for JARVIS. 

“J, buddy, do you read, I need immediate evac of the Mark forty two,”

“Stand by, evac is already en-route. Please describe the malfunction.”

“The reactor, it’s reactor is separated and-- jhesus christ, I think the sorcerer turned Tony into a dragon, only, he’s frikin, _tiny_ , okay? Like, _Gem’s size_.” 

Silence on the line, right up until Sam swore. “That explains the nest of juvies I spotted near Starbucks. They’re bystanders. Or, they were.” 

Incredulous, Clint tore his eyes away from Tony, clambering ineffectually out of the hole in his armor, and peeked up over the car. The downed stoker-class was dragging its rider back towards open ground by their jacket, obviously trying to take off, and menacing Steve with it’s spikes. Clint aimed an arrow at the rider with a silent apology to the dragon and they went limp, taking the dragon’s attention off Steve for long enough to get the shield flying and knock it out. 

“Thanks Clint. That’s the last of them. How’s Tony?” Cap asked. 

Clint hunkered back down, disarming his quiver and getting his bow out of the way. Tony had failed miserably to climb out of the armor and made a hooting noise that Clint hadn’t heard outside of David Attenborough. 

“He’s sad, I think? Let me just get him out of the armor...” The blown out shards of the hole in the suit were sharp, and still radiating heat.

“That is no answer, Hawkeye--” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it!” He reached in carefully and held his hand for Tony to take. “Hey, Tony, please remember being human, yeah? I am super friendly, I am practically your best buddy...” 

Soft, leathery paws wrapped around his wrist and he pulled the baby dragon out. The sharp edges of the hole threatened to slice up the flappy leathery aerofoils all over his body, but least Tony was fireproof now; the heat that was scorching the hairs off Clint’s arm wouldn’t bother him. 

The baby dragon clung with his eyes real wide, then flopped bonelessly when Clint bundled him against his chest. His little chest fluttered at a good three or four breaths for every one of Clint’s and he smelled like plasma, his hot little body radiating warmth. And light. Embedded in his chest was a deep purple glow, where the reactor had been before he’d had it taken out. The skin stretched over it was scarred, silver and scaleless, vulnerable. Clint put his hand over it with a shiver. 

“He’s fine, I think. Looks like the spell’s embedded in his chest,” he reported on the coms, twitching slightly when Tony put his new paws around his wrist.

“Alright, Nat’s bringing the sorcerer, Clint, ride with Tony back to the tower. Sam, you’re with me, let’s go grab those bystanders.”

“Aw, man, you were supposed to be my ride,” Clint whined, dreading dragging the Mk42 anywhere. He stayed hunkered down, listening for the whine of JARVIS’ evac drone and making sure Tony, and the wrecked armor, were mostly out of sight before taking another look at Tony’s new, tiny body for injuries.

Blinking slowly, Tony turned his head towards Clint’s chest and pressed his broad forehead against his stomach armor. There were buckles and zips and weapons everywhere, it couldn’t be comfortable, so Clint hefted him up higher and unzipped and unclipped what he could without dropping anything important.

“Oh, hey, Tony? Can you understand me?” He asked, tucking him against his belly where he was a bit more protected from prying eyes.

Tony butted him more firmly, wriggling so his side was pressed to Clint’s undershirt, and made disparaging sounds.

Clint relaxed with a grin. “Boy, I would recognise that look anywhere. You are literally a fairytale, Stark, check yourself out.” 

Tony twisted his head over his back and opened his...various wing flaps. He had way too many aerofoils; if Tony was mature enough to fly, they were going to have serious problems. Wings, tail flaps, pelvic ailerons, black scales, extra twisty neck, with sonar built in. And that was before the whole _plasma blast_ aspect. Making curious, excitable chirps, Tony turned all the way around, wriggling onto his belly in Clint’s grip to get a better look at his wings. His tail, naturally, flipped up, flaps wide open, and caught Clint in the side of the head.

“Wow, okay, watch it with the tail, you are not that small. I think you’re like... a hatchling. You’re all soft, like a baby chick.”

Tony frowned, or, it felt like he did, which was interesting because, y’know, no eyebrows, and looked at his claws. They bent against Clint’s arm, not even as hard as fingernails, and Tony made a rising chirp, followed by a hooting grumble.

“Jhesus, you make the best noises.”

Tony squarked like an affronted cat and hunkered down, glowering up at him.

“Fine, whatever. What do you want me to do with the suit? The evac’ll be here in a second.” 

Tony flapped an ear-thing in the direction of the incoming drone; obviously they’d picked up the sound before Clint had. Hearing aids couldn’t beat a dragon, Clint figured. He wasn’t gonna be sore about it. Tony squirmed out of his arms and to the concrete, grabbing the armor’s thumb and pulling towards the landing drone. 

“Gotcha, now get _back here_ before someone sees you!” Clint hissed, holding his jacket open. Tony looked around, then shot into the offered space like Jessie after jelly. Clint zipped the jacket halfway closed over him, and Tony wriggled about until he could breathe through the V of the zip. “Okay?” 

Tony chirrped, and it wasn’t a good sound. Not even a little bit. He was shaking against Clint’s shirt, so Clint didn’t waste any more time. Maybe Tony’d be better around his pets, Jessie was a good den mom, as long as there were no treats going around. Tony was always better when his dragon buddies were crawling all over him.

The drone closed up around them, a teeny-tiny version of the jet, without manual controls, and with extra medical stuff, which Clint ignored because _dragon_. 

“Tony, buddy, you okay?” Clint asked, peeling his jacket open. 

Tony shoved his head into Clint’s armpit, his tail flopping out of the zip and smacking into Clint’s thigh. “Brrggggggrrrm.”

Clint curled around him, just a bit, and hopped up on the stretcher, flopping onto his side. 

“You’ll be okay, we’ve got the sorcerer, you won’t be like this for too long.”

Tony wriggled up close to his chest, tucking his nose up against the underside of Clint’s chin and churrring, a small, warm kind of sound.

“You’ll be okay. Promise.”

\---

By the time the other Avengers got back to the tower, Clint had put Tony through JARVIS’ scanners, applied a very tiny wrap to a sprained ankle, and ordered sushi.

Tony was pleased with all of the above, interacting with JARVIS’ screens with complete confidence and settling like a king on a plush cushion to rest his sore ankle. Clint was just wondering whether to let Gem and Jessie and all the rest out of the eyrie to mob him when the jet landed and Avengers started tumbling through the doors. No one that noticed was hurt, though Steve had a burn mark the size of his face over one bicep that had already pinked over, so they all convened on Tony instead. 

Clint decided that letting the flock out could wait; Tony had plenty to deal with already.

“You’re so small, what species are you? He can understand us, Clint?” Steve started with, crouching by the coffee table to be eye level with Tony. Sam was right behind him, leaning over, _looming_ , but Nat bypassed them all to come slouch on the couch with Clint, divesting herself of her gear. 

Tony was unimpressed by all the attention, sitting up very straight on his back legs and tail and holding his arms over his chest. He couldn’t cross them, not enough elbow, but he did cover the purple glow. His sonar flaps stood straight up and his pupils narrowed to slits as he leaned backwards, away from Steve. Steve didn’t do anything to make him less freaked, just peered at the purple glow and put a hand on the coffee table, too close to Tony. The tiny dragon’s mouth started to glow, a high pitched whine coming from the light and he set his feet, shifting the ankle Clint had wrapped.

“Hey, back off, Cap; you’re fucking huge, okay?” Clint snapped, leaning forwards to steady Tony when he inevetable wobbled. He was only a baby, if he’d stayed human and deaged, no one would fucking think it was funny, or ignore the bandage. In this shape, though, even Clint wouldn’t have noticed if J hadn’t seen the heat on the scans. Tony put a paw on his forearm and laid back down, stretching the leg out and covering it with his wing, still glaring at Cap.

“Sorry, Tony, I didn’t think, are you okay?” Steve said, dropping back onto his butt and leaning against the opposite couch.

Tony chattered furiously then barked and stuck his head under his wing, little body heaving with frustration. Yeah, Clint was going to ascribe ‘Fuck’ to that bark. “J says he’s fine, it’s like when Loki turned Thor into a frog.” 

A pained expression went over Steve’s face and Sam leapt on it. 

“Ohoo, I see how it is, you’ve been keeping shit from me, Rogers. Spill.” 

Glad that Tony had a second of peace while Steve whined, Clint scooted forwards and rested a hand on Tony’s back.

“Hey, you wanna go somewhere? Workshop? Bed? I dunno how baby dragons work, but, you gotta be tired, compressing that giant brain into a tiny little body.” 

Tony shifted his wing down far enough to uncover one suspicious eye.

“Don’t give me that, I’m not kidding! J was all like ‘neurochemical depletion’ and I don’t know what the fuck else.” 

Tony’d been there, he’d been listening, but he wasn’t convinced. “Alright, fine. Would you like, I dunno, a nest box or something?” He asked. Tony looked exposed, like he felt exposed.

Tony looked around, specifically at Sam, Steve and Nat --who was looking back at him-- and made a face, shaking his head at the nest box idea, but beckoning Clint closer with a clumsy paw. 

“You wanna hide back in here? Man, that’s fine with me, but, don’t you want me to get changed first? I’m like... two days and a fight from my nearest shower.” Clint sniffed himself, and he didn’t smell too bad, but who knew what dragon noses were like, right? 

Tony nodded, and clambered off his cushion in Clint’s direction. 

“Sure, okay. You can hang out on my bed while I wash up, okay?” 

“He could stay with me,” Nat said, leaning forwards to pick Tony up like it was a foregone conclusion. Before Clint could get a warning off, though, Tony’s jaws had fastened around Natasha’s hand.

Everyone froze, waiting for a reprisal, or a flinch, but Natasha held very carefully still until Tony backed off, opening toothless jaws and bearing his gums at her.

“I could have sworn you had te-- teeth. There they are.” 

Tony finished his grimace with a sharp snap, teeth coming down and sparking against each other.

“Point taken, Tony. I know you have your favorites,” Nat said, blankly wiping her hand on a kleenex. Clint grimaced in apology, but when he held his hands out to Tony, he climbed right on, letting Clint bundle his tail and wings up against his chest and resting his head on Clint’s shoulder.

“Someone give us a yell when the food gets here? I ordered something everyone could eat. Steve, if you eat all the fatty tuna before I get there, I will end you.”

“Yes sir, dragon handler, sir,” Steve replied, slouching back against the couch wryly. “Don’t get into any jams your human body can’t get out of, okay, Tony? We don’t know when this’ll wear off.”

Tony nodded with an affirmative chirrup, then slumped in Clint’s arms and apparently started to go to sleep. Clint padded through to his room and let him down onto the clean side of the bed, where he usually kept his laptop and chips. Beds in Stark Tower were _ridiculous_. Tony grumbled and slid to the pillow without opening his eyes, slumping like a leather jacket. Clint backed off cautiously.

“You tell J to get you a holographic keyboard if you need me, okay?” he said, just in case Tony was awake-ish. He didn’t react, but J made a faintly affirmative ping, and Clint headed off towards his shower.

Stopping at the doorway, PJ’s already in hand, he turned around, biting his lip, and carefully draped a clean-ish hoodie over Tony, just in case. Hatchlings needed incubating, right?

When he came back out, Tony was nestled quietly on his bed and had turned over onto his back, sore ankle hanging out of the hoodie. He snuffled, whuffed and snored through Clint getting dressed, but didn’t wake; Clint was starting to think ‘tired’ didn’t quite cover it.

“J, is he okay? Really?” Clint asked, crouched by the bed, with his palm over Tony’s breast. The purple light glowed through his fingers, just a little bit.

“I am...somewhat concerned. However, I have noted an increase in femur length in the time you have been in scanner range.” 

Surprised, Clint looked up at J’s camera, quizzically. 

“Were he to stay in this shape, he would reach eight meters long in just over three months.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing.” Tony was a _maximum_ of 70cm, an arrow and a half, that was a _lot_ of growing, even if most of it was tail. “Is that normal?”

“Indeed. Now, if you are finished, the others are reconvening for food and the debrief.” 

“Sure, right. He’ll change back before then, anyway.” He smoothed a hand down Tony’s exposed chest, nudging his wing out of the way so he could scoop him up. He wriggled sleepily and looked up, judged Clint an acceptable ride, and shoved himself into the offered partly zipped hoodie. It was fairly tight, summer weight, so as long as Clint kept an arm underneath him, there was no risk of Tony falling out. He didn’t stick his head out of the zip, this time, and stayed pretty much completely hidden, puffing warm breaths into Clint’s belly button.

“Okay, all that growing, it’s food time. I got your human-favorites, but aside from dragons liking fish? I have no idea what your tastebuds will go for. I asked them not to season it and shit, who knows with wasabi, right?”

Tony churred and chuffed agreeably, his paws kneading at Clint’s stomach and jaw rubbing up along his sternum. He didn’t know if Tony was aware, but that was exactly the same begging gesture his pet dragons used when they really, _really_ wanted in the fridge. He decided not to mention it, and headed out to the living room. There were sushi platters all over the place already, and Tony’s pet dragons were squawking at the gate to the eyrie.

“Yeah, fat chance, Jessie. Maybe once your papa’s had his fill. You’d give him all the best cuddles, right? He’s a baby, yes he is,” Clint crooned, scritching the dragons’ horn-base through the gate.

“Hey guys,” he called, once he was done fussing over the miniature flock.

“Hey Clint, Tony. Alright?” Steve asked.

“Apparently, juvie strike-class dragons have it hard, he’s having to sleep.” Clint pulled a platter over and sat next to Nat, also in PJs and a cozy hoodie. 

“I can put him to bed, if you like,” Steve offered, leaning over to look down Clint’s top. Was this how ladies felt on the subway? Because wow, Steve was all up in his personal space. 

“Best not, man. He’s latched on pretty good. I’m his favorite, since the call out with the triffids.” 

“He’s _my_ boyfriend,” Steve grouched, though he did back off and pass three pieces of fatty tuna over, making the total on Clint’s platter up to five. Clint tipped the fish of one of the blocks of rice, and stuffed the plain rice in his mouth.

“Yeah, and what’s worse, being in a sexually immature body with a bro, or with your _fella_?” Clint mumbled. Against his stomach, Tony squirmed sleepily and peeked out of the hoodie at Steve. 

“I... that’s really--. I didn’t think of it like that,” Steve admitted, picking up a slice of fish with his baby-chopsticks and offering it to Tony.

Clint shrugged and held still while Tony carefully taste-tested the fish. “...’s alright. I got deaged once, in... ‘04?” Apparently meeting Tony’s high standards, he slurped down the offering with a pleased churr. Steve looked mollified, at least, and offered Clint’s cleavage another piece of the fatty tuna.

Nat nodded and gestured with her chopsticks. “You were an ass the whole time. Kiddie hormones, adult mind. Awful. Seriously awful. Fart jokes.” 

Steve’s nose wrinkled but it didn’t exactly put him off his food, and he munched through a whole four maki in like, three bites. “Your files--” he mumbled, mouth full but somehow managing not to spray food everywhere. “Are _woefully_ incomplete.” 

“That’s exactly how I like it, honey-bun,” Nat quipped. “Keep ‘em guessing.” 

Clint left them to bicker and sat back in the couch, pulling his augmented platter onto his lap. “Eat whatever, Tony, I got another whole one for myself.” 

Churring cautiously, Tony crept out of the hoodie, leaving Clint’s abs feeling chilly, and started picking at the fish and shrimp and seaweed. The rice only got eaten by accident, so Clint started scooping up the least-mauled lumps for himself. Tony slowly got warmer and heavier on his lap, leaving more time between mouthfuls, until he finally spent a whole minute licking up the eggs off the top of a roll.

Stuffed and round-bellied, Tony wobbled up Clint’s chest and flopped down. Clint put a hand over the purple light, feeling the bird-boned little chest rise and fall steadily under his palm, and held him steady while he put the platter on the table and keeled over sideways to use Nat as a pillow.

He watched through half asleep senses as Tony turned around on the couch, eyeing Nat and tail held more carefully this time. Eventually, he settled down against Clint’s chest, stretching up to nuzzle through Clint’s hair. 

It felt real good, and Tony’s leaning got slowly heavier, until they both dropped off to sleep, bundled up together with their bellies full.

\---

_Two months, five days later:_

He was there. And there. And also over here. Literally, he was managing to cover the entire fucking hall with his leathery black ass, aerofoils billowing everywhere and looking more like an oversized abandoned leather jacket than a dragon. 

“Awww Tony, c’mon...” Clint picked up a handful of tailvane and pulled, dragging at least _some_ of Tony’s tail out of the way of the door. He set it back down gently, by virtue of not being an ass, but it slithered right back to block the door again the second he let it go. 

“Aww man, really?” he grumbled. “Hey, genius! Hey, wake up!” He shoved at the tail and pulled on a hip vane, which snapped back closed under its own elasticity when he let it go. Only, instead of a startled sonar-chirp, he got a low, rumbly chuckle out of Tony, who rolled over in a silky rustle of leather and planted his lower back against the door, full on.

Clint tossed his towel at Tony’s head, where it draped over his entire face, and two of his sonar flaps. Giving up the pretense of sleep, Tony dragged the fabric off his head with a paw and lumbered to his feet, all his loose aerofoils snapping neatly to his sides and wings tucking up to give him the space to turn. He sashayed away, tail fwapping Clint in the leg on his way past. 

“Hey!”

It hit him on the face on the next swing and Tony leapt away, giving Clint no choice but to chase after him. 

\---

It was a different perspective alright. For one, they seemed _even smaller_ than they did when he was a human, all fluttery and tiny. And _adorable_. They were so warm and, since he couldn’t fit into the fireplace, they’d flame on him when he was dirty. It was infinitely better than any shower he’d ever had, and even hotsprings couldn’t compare. 

Jessie in particular was fastidious about it, and always demanded fair play, standing resolutely in front of his nose until he breathed purple and ultimately harmless flames over her back. As long as he avoided their mouths, they could take pretty much as hot as he could burn, it was awe-inspiring. This was why he’d built Iron Man, and he reclaims some of that wonder, lounging about as two tons of scaly black hide. He doesn’t learn it from his own skin, his claws and fire, though, naw. 

It’s from these assholes. 

\---

He could admit that he didn’t sleep as well without Tony, that was fair, and since he only needed four hours, there was enough overlap in their schedules that Steve could usually get it. 

But. 

Since turning into a strike-class, Tony didn’t exactly sleep somewhere hospitable to humans. He’d bake his granite slab up to three hundred degrees and lounge on that, instead. He’d offered to sleep in the bed with Steve, but he hadn’t actually slept that night, so. 

Never mind. 

Hearing Tony’s giant body snoring away was better than nothing, but it’d been two months since Steve’d had a solid night's sleep. He wasn’t complaining, exactly, because Tony had it worse, what with the high-speed growth and having to eat raw bismuth-- god forbid he turn back right after a meal, he was going to poison himself, damnit. 

Steve paused in the middle of the corridor, no idea of where he was headed. It took almost eight hours not-sleep to equate to the four of real sleep that he was missing and he’d only had three of them before he got too hungry to stay in bed.

Twitching out of his stupor, he headed for the kitchen. Blearily stumbling around the dragonettes' feeding perch, he blinked confusedly at the wriggling tail emerging from under the kitchen table. Tony’s other end was halfway inside the fridge, his broad head knocking into a bottle of milk as he tried to get to his tupperware of human-grade sushi.

“Mmmmhey Tones. Y wan’ me teh get that?” 

Tony huffed, his earflaps going up and knocking the bottle of milk back upright. Turning and ID’ing Steve, he pulled back with that disconcerting abruptness and sat on his ass looking expectant. 

“Sure, sure. I gotcha.” Steve hauled out the tupperware and pulled the fish out of its ice. Tony sucked it right out of his hand, his mouth heating up to something approaching lethal to instant-cook the meal. 

A very pleased rumble followed and Tony rubbed his whole head along Steve’s shirt. He was getting huge, more than strong enough to knock Steve off his feet, which he proceeded to do. Steve, sleepy and not exactly 100% situationally aware, tumbled forwards over his head and flopped bonelessly on his back, Tony’s wings hunched to keep him from rolling off. He sighed and buried his face in Tony’s scales, hiding and managing to relax back towards sleep while Tony carted him off...somewhere. 


End file.
